Define Punishment
by Dyslexic Angel
Summary: Inspired by an icon, total PWP.  Bondage, sadism, slash... Demyx and Zexion spend some quality time together, and talk a little.  Read at your own risk, rated for a reason.


Ah, porn without plot. And, as I don't really write lemons, porn without plot without the porn. It's all Demi's fault, her and that icon. Don't ask.

Zexion was not in a good mood. This was not unusual; the quietest of Ansem's aprentices would have quite calmly informed you he felt nothing, and was thus _incapable_ of being in a good mood. However, he was rarely in his present state—towering, screaming, fury.

"There are MUSICAL NOTES in the margins!! Were you raised by SAVAGES?!?!" The normally quiet nobody shouted, voice spiraling up to an unnaturally high pitch. As the most literary inclined of a rather mixed bunch, care of the library of Castle Oblivion had fallen to Zexion. Said bunch mostly forgot the castle _had_ a library—save Zexion's current unfortunate victem, who visited often but read little.

"um... sorry?" Demyx lifted one arm defensively against the shorter man, his voice also higher than it should have been. "But it isn't really that big of a deal, is it?" Blue eyes wide and innocent, he had no idea why the words would make Zexion begin to turn a fascinating shade of purple. The older man's voice dropped to a low, venemouse whisper.

"Not a big deal? _Not a big deal_... you _desecrate_ one of my books, and you have the nerve to call it NOT A BIG DEAL?!!!" Demyx winced and backed up another nervous step towards the door.

"Nobody even reads these exept us, and you never _touch_ the music theory!" He protested in a last effort to save himself. Zexion did not seem molified in the least, and took another slow, menacing step forward and to the left, effectively cutting off Demyx's escape route and incidentally bringing the two very close together.

"Do you know what the proper punishment is for those who abuse books?" there was a mad gleam in the eyes of Ansem's youngest aprentice, and Demyx would have traded half the strings on his Sitar to be anywhere but here. "First, I'm going to shackle you to a wall at the top of the eastern tower. Naked." His voice was quickly becoming frighteningly calm, almost carressing. "then, I'm going to cut you, so lightly it barely bleeds but covering every _inch_ of your not-real skin." Demyx's expression had cycled briefly through abject terror and was now bordering on amused.

"You know, that's kinda kinky." The musician smirked, twirling a strand of Zexion's hair around one long finger. "What next?"

"mmmfflgh." Zexion made a choked sound, halfway between a sputter and a laugh. Dull crimson spread quickly across his cheeks, an expression compounded of embaressment and anger. "Then," he said lowly, "I am going to give you a bath in lemon juice." Demyx's face contorted for a breif instant, but he seemed over his earlier panic.

"That sounds unpleasant. I'd need you to kiss it and make it better." a smirk was growing on the blonde's face at the other man's reactions to his words. The flush grew deeper, bordering on flourescent. To Zexion's credit, he managed a response.

"That would rather defeat the purpose, if you were enjoying yourself. Or do you not understand the definition of 'punishment', either?"

"I know _a_ definition of punishment." the sitarist replied in a husky drawl, looking coyly through lowered lashes. "My definition would be more fun—for both of us." Zexion almost seemed to shrink in on himself, fiercely aggressive posture lowering into something far more submissive. He couldn't quite seem to make himself meet the other's eyes.

"Perhaps I should educate you as to the real meaning." Demyx's smirk winded.

"Go ahead." He took a slow step forward, Zexion retreating until he came up short against the bookshelf. The silver-haired man had an odd expression, fear layered with embaressment, traces of anger, and thick confused lust. With no where to run, he stopped dead and watched the aproaching blonde, his body language half-wary, half-wanting.

Demyx did not wait for an engraved invitation; pressing his lips to those of the shorter man, the kiss quickly deepened into something dark and aggressive. For a brief moment he feared Zexion wouldn't respond, before feeling the other recover his senses and war for dominance. With a faint smirk, Demyx pressed their bodies closer together against the bookcase even as he pressed his tounge into the other's mouth with all but bruising force. They were not gentle; teeth clicked as they bit and licked, Demyx holding control by the faintest of threads as lust boiled in his veins.

Stealing a quick breath, Zexion broke away just long enough to open a shadow portal and drag his companion through. They landed, still kissing, against the cold stone wall of the east tower. Sparing a quick glance, Demyx noticed the shackles Zexion had mentioned earlier—a pair of wrist cuffs bound to a chain from the ceiling, and ankle cuffs set into the wall a few feet apart just above the floor.

"Interesting place you got here." he breathed, shifting so Zexy was against the wall with the chains, working one hand free.

"mmm." Zexion seemed to be in a daze as Demyx kissed, more gently, a trail down his neck to the collarbone. He seemed to have given up fighting, content to be pinned beneath the older man. That didn't mean his hands were still—one had made it to the zipper of Demi's coat, and was currently working on getting it as far down as possible. The other found itself caught and pinned, before being fastened into one of the metal wrist-shackles.

"What?!" startled, gray eyes flew open to fix the musician with an almost offended stare. "You're the one who needs punishing." Demyx's only reply was a smirk as he fastened the other shackle around it's respective wrist.

"I think it's your definition that's flawed..."he breathed softly. "So I'm going to teach you mine." Zexion's only response was a hastening of breath as long-fingered hands pulled a knife from some unknowable place and slowly slid the zipper down his body. It was then that the knife came into play; sleeves that could not be slid over shackled hands were mercilessly cut away, their owner shivering as the blade kissed his skin but did not cut. When what was left of the coat fell the the floor, and Demyx smirked. "Naughty Zexion. Not wearing much under that coat, were you?" In fact, the other nobody had been left in only a pair of black silk boxers and the regulation calf-high boots. The effect was odd.

"...it's more comfortable." Zexion was blushing again, desperately trying to find somewhere to look.

"I kinda like it." Demyx breathed, pressing slow kisses in a trail down the neck, nipping lightly at the point where it met the shoulder, then biting hard. The knife rose again in his hand, this time cutting the pale flesh; blood welled and ran from the crude heart spontaneosly carved there. Zexion winced but did not cry out, letting a thin moan escape as the blood was all but tenderly lapped away. Lips and teeth followed the blood trail down, flicking at one nipple on the way down and leaving faint bite marks scattered over ice-white skin. Zexion's face was contorted in mingled pain and extasy, his breathing harsh as he fought the cuffs holding his hands.

"I want to touch you." He gasped out. "Let my hands free!" Demyx looked up just long enough to favor him with a smirk.

"That would rather defeat the purpose, if you were enjoying yourself." Zexion's taunting words from earlier were thrown back at him, drawing a growl at their newly sinister meaning. Demyx laughed. "Don't worry. I promise it'll be fun." he winked, returning to kissing his way down Zexion's flat stomach. Long-fingered hands carefully slid down the black silk boxers, skillful mouth quickly following. The faintest brush of lips _there_, then Demyx pulled away, earning a soft moan of regret from the now limp Zexion.

"Why are you stopping?" he managed between gasps for air. The musician was smirking, a fey and dangerous expression.

"This is where the punishment part comes in." Zexion's face twisted into an unreadable expression.

"Demyx, _please_." The raw lust in the tone sent shivers up Dem's spine, and with a heated look, he bent to oblige, falling to one knee for a better position. His reply was hoarse and slightly muffled.

"You beg so temptingly..."a tounge darted out in an obscene open-mouthed kiss, decidedly _not_ on the mouth. "I think perhaps you've learned your lesson."

Kinda fragmentory, but I don't really _write_ lemons. Please review anyway; if enough people do, I may make a stab at continuing it, though I doubt it will ever really develop a _plot_.


End file.
